


Growing up

by trashemdudes



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashemdudes/pseuds/trashemdudes
Summary: Damian takes care of Dick while he's sick, and both of them learn a few things.





	Growing up

Dick convulsed, and Damian whipped the bucket out, Dick curving his hand around the side clumsily as vomit spilled from his mouth. Dick groaned as the vomit filled the bucket with a wet slop. He managed the faintest groan of exasperated pain, gasping for breath between each convulsion.

He stared blearily down at the bucket, gagging with smaller and smaller amounts rising up before he could catch a break.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick could just see Damian leaning back slightly, wrinkling his nose as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes staying Dick.

Dick paused, catching his breath just as another wave spilled from his mouth, his eyes tearing up as his muscles tensed and the bucket filled another few centimeters. He was just waiting for it to be over. His head was pounding and had been for several hours now. This was probably what he got for trying to reset his sleep schedule to something normal. He was never trying that again.

Dick hovered about the bucket, mouth open but nothing coming out, and he glanced over to find Damian waiting along with him to see if it had subsided for the moment. It had.

Dick spat several times into the bucket to get rid of the taste, grimacing as he did so. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, and sighed.

“Done,” Dick said weakly. “For now.”

Damian nodded, rolled up his sleeves again and put on latex plastic gloves, as he took the bucket from Dick with a look of disgust at the contents and carried it over to the bathroom where he dumped the contents into the toilet. He flushed it down with an audible good riddance muttered at whatever had contaminated Dick’s stomach. Dick bit back a smile at his disdainful tone as he heard the water run, Damian rinsing it out before returning the wet bucket back to its place by the bed and returning himself back to his place in the chair beside Dick.

“Thanks, Damian,” Dick said weakly, lying back into the mountain of pillows underneath him. He was tempted to close his eyes and fall asleep but closing his eyes would leave him with even less distractions against the headache and nausea. He could just keep on thinking about their most recent cases while he stared at the wallpaper.

Damian shot him a look. “Should you really be speaking?”

“Yeah. I’m fine for now.” Dick paused. “Promise I won’t throw up on you again.”

Damian narrowed his eyes to slit. “You had better not.”

Dick grinned, welcoming the distraction that was riling Damian up.

“Honestly, I’ve had so much practice this past hour, I’m sure my aim’s gotten better. We could probably make a game out of-”

“Stop.” Damian sighed heavily before pinching the bridge of his nose. All high and mighty for such a tiny kid. He looked down before his eyes went back up to Dick, a frown on his face, as he said, “Are you _enjoying_ being sick?”

“No, I just figured there’s no point in being miserable about it.”

“Tt.”

Dick raised his eyebrows. “Do you _want_ me to be miserable?”

“Your positivity disturbs me.”

“Thanks,” Dick said dryly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone say I was too positive.”

“Mm,” Damian responded before eyeing Dick’s face with disbelief. “I don’t understand why you haven’t induced vomiting to quicken the process.”

“Are you offering to stick your hand down my throat?” Dick said with a look. “Because I’m not going to-”

“You should be able to empty the contents of your stomach at will.”

Dick took a moment to look Damian in the face. Damian’s confusion at Dick’s, apparently unreasonable and foolish, lack of command over his organs was completely genuine, and all it made Dick realize was that he desperately needed someone there, Alfred, Barbara, Tim, Titus, anyone, so they could have that shared _look_ of understanding when it came to Damian’s upbringing.

“Yeah,” Dick rolled his eyes, “Sorry, missed that class along with the ‘how to move your organs out of a knife’s way’ because I was out _sick_.”

“Very funny,” Damian said sarcastically.

Dick sighed, slumping down into the pillows miserably. They engulfed him again as he said, “Feel free to lecture me on it when I’m less dead.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Your behavior is childish.”

Dick shrugged. “The benefits of being sick.” On that note, Dick could feel the nausea climbing again.

Damian frowned. “Being ill is no excuse for your behavior.”

Dick stared at him probably longer than he should’ve. “It’s just a joke, Damian. Well... it's also true. Things feel simpler when I’m in pain sometimes. Can’t think as much so I don’t. There’s less to worry about. It’s like being a kid again.” He tried to end it on a light note.

“Hmph.”

“Well what happened when you got sick at the League?”

“I don’t get sick. I’m Damian- Damian Wayne.”

“Does being Dick John Grayson-Wayne count for anything?” Dick smiled, baring his the straight rows of his teeth.

“No.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly. You should be disappointed obviously.”

“Obviously,” Dick said with a faint grin. And then heaved.

Damian had the bucket out just in time.

There was another round of vomiting, leaving Dick dizzy and disoriented. And silent, once it was finished, as he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes, figuring he could use a break on the talking for now. After Damian returned from the bathroom again, there was a short pause where Dick wondered if Damian was watching him. What the kid thought about when he saw Dick lying there, sick and weak. Then there was the rustle of his sleeves and the snap of a hinge, and Dick figured Damian was on his DS. His latest obsession after Zoo Tycoon was Pokemon.

A win for Dick. Damian had snubbed it at first, but now he was hooked.

Dick made a note that he really needed to go buy that child-sized pikachu onesie he’d left in the online shopping cart.

There was the constant sound of button mashing, and after a long moment passed, another round of vomiting started up again, Damian glancing up from his game in intervals once the bucket was in place. It was only a while after that that Damian asked, “Have you considered what might have made you ill?”

Dick turned his head, peeling open an eye. The pillow case was soft against his cheek, and he was getting sleepier. Damian wouldn’t accept being ignored though. He eventually opened both eyes before he said. “Alfred didn’t mention it? It’s just migraines. I get them on occasion.”

Damian eyed him. “Migraines tend to be hereditary.”

“Oh. Yeah, I think my dad had migraines. I’d have to ask Mr. Haly about it... I keep on forgetting to though... it’s funny. I was eight when they died, but I don’t remember too much about them,” Dick mused. “Just a couple memories here and there, but most of it’s slipped away now. When Mr. Haly gave me the photobook he had of the circus back then, I couldn’t remember most of it. Why I was upset. Who that person was. What that dessert tasted like. I mean...eight’s pretty old already, but it’s all gone now.”

Dick reached out to ruffle Damian’s hair, Damian ducking and scowling in response even if he allowed it. “You’re ten now, huh? Think you’ll still remember the stupid stuff I’ve said when you’re my age?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Obviously. I’ll still be using them against you.”

“Cool, so you can remember me after I die today from choking on my own vomit.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Ah yes, I’ll make sure to put it on your gravestone. Death by regurgitated food.”

“All I’ve ever wanted,” Dick grinned. Then he asked, “Does your Grandfather remember a lot?”

Damian stilled, his eyes completely off the small DS screen now. “...I don’t know. I didn’t have many conversations with him that weren’t one-sided.”

“Like getting lectured?”

“Like he told me what to do and I accomplished it,” Damian said without any emotion.

“...is that so, kiddo.”

Damian looked up at Dick, expressionless. “Yes. It is so.” He held Dick’s eyes before adding, “But if I had to make a reasonable estimate from my observations and knowledge of him, then I would say, no. He doesn’t remember much anymore. Not of his youth or his past.”

“Think he keeps journals?”

Damian snorted, “His past is not important. It is what he will do with the future that has any value. Grandfather has no interest in being caught up in his past glories. He is only focused on his ambition and what he can do to improve and achieve what he desires.”

“Sounds a bit lonely.”

“Really, Grayson,” Damian rolled his eyes, “What good has the past ever brought you?”

Dick cracked a small smile as he said softly, the taste of thick, salty stew and the feeling of rough wood under his palms, the sky stretching overhead as a fire crackled in front, “Something to get me through the night when it’s too long.”

Damian only stared at him with that little resting frown on his round face before he looked away.

“I think you’ll want to remember these days, Damian.”

“The ones where I have to hold a bucket out for you to vomit into because your stomach is incompetent?”

Dick laughed, “No, not today specifically, but just... how do I explain? I used to think Bruce, Batman was amazing. I could never imagine thinking a single bad thought about him and really meaning it, and that...it meant the world to me that someone like this could exist. He was... _everything_.”

“Are you suggesting that this is what I think of you?” Damian raised an eyebrow with a look of disdain.

Dick laughed again and then curled up a little, letting out a soft sigh. He closed his eyes as he murmured, “No. Not that.”

“Then you’re concerned I’ll think badly of you when I’m older.” Damian patted Dick lightly on the shoulder, and it took Dick a moment, by then the light touch long gone, to realize that Damian had initiated friendly contact himself. “Relax yourself, Grayson. I'm already aware you’re pathetic. There’s no disillusionment possible.”

Dick snorted, “Glad to know I set the bar low. But no, not what I mean. It’s just that...you think it’s more complicated as an adult. There’s less...certainty.” Dick said. “Belief. About..about good things I guess. I wouldn't say I'm more pessimistic now, but just that, I admittedly idolize cynicism sometimes. It feels smarter to. A lot of the time it's good to be more careful, but sometimes...sometimes, it’s just nice to trust that goods thing will happen. And there are good memories in the past. Things to keep you going.”

Dick realized he'd tensed up somewhere in the middle of rambling. He took a moment to relax his shoulders as Damian seemed to organize his thoughts.

Damian finally spoke. “I don’t have any such beliefs _now_ , Grayson. I don’t need those memories to drive me. The knowledge of what I want drives me.”

Dick quirked a smile. “You think you’re all that though, don’t you?”

Damian made a face.

Dick chuckled. “Keep on thinking it. Arrogance looks surprisingly good on you.” He paused. “Maybe tone down the meanness though.”

Damian clicked his tongue.

“It just..." and Dick can't help emphasizing these kinds of things when it comes to Damian, "it just doesn’t have to be that complicated is all. Damian, you can have a little hope and be disappointed when it doesn’t come through. Can show it. Can look like a complete idiot."

Dick made sure to meet Damian's eyes. "You shouldn’t have to worry so much about proving yourself others.” 

“I _don’t_ worry.” His tone was almost angry. He's scowling, and Dick recalled that that was one of the triggers he'd marked down in his mind for Damian. Whoops. He'd remember next time.

For now, Dick just let the silence linger. There wasn't any other response that Damian would accept.

After a moment, Damian shifted the DS from one hand to the other as he cast his eyes down, a faint downwards curve to the bow of his lips. He inquired, tone too even, “Do you have memories that offer you a reminder of certainty? ...outside of Father, I mean.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Such as?”

“Like what it feels like to feel safe.” Dick smiled, looking back. “Being squeezed inbetween my parents on the twin bed in our trailer in the winter when I was still small enough to fit and being engulfed by the pillows and blankets. I can remember the faded colors and patterns of the quilts and the fruity smell of my parents’ shampoo perfectly if nothing else. I would watch the snow fall outside the little trailer window late at night. And... it was really warm. All my winters were no matter where I was as long as I was with them.”

Damian looked up at Dick, arms folded in his lap. He said it matter of factly, almost speaking to himself. “I don’t have such a memory.”

“Not-” even with your mom? Dick stopped himself in time. Instead, he reached out to touch Damian’s hair, mussing up the neatly spiked hair. He let his hand linger long enough that when he pulled back, the air felt cold. “We should make one then. How ab — bleargh.”

Damian had the bucket ready, and to Dick’s surprise again, after a moment, placed a small, warm hand on his back, rubbing intermittently, if tensely. In practicality, it wasn’t like it helped, things like that never really helped, but Dick let the nausea rise again as he figured he’d have to bring Damian to the zoo or something when he was better. Just as a thank you or something for a kid too good to believe.


End file.
